If You Love Something, Let It Go
by uluvme-realornotreal
Summary: They say I am stupid for loving someone from town when I am from the Seam. And they are right. But I will soon be 18 and I will be nothing but a dirty coal miner. You think she will notice me then? No. So I have to make my move now.
1. Chapter 1:The Reaping

God, she kills me. I whisper her name. _Celia. _I let it roll off of my tongue. Watching her brightens my day. And she doesn't even know I am here.

She is beautiful; she has eyes so deep I find myself falling into their dark green. The green tells of sadness, anger, pain. She is the one for me. Hair so luscious all i want to do is twist it in my hands, tell her how beautiful it is. And her smile... God, it makes me fall to my knees. I fall dumb when she turns her brilliant smile on me. I love her.

But we live in District 12, and this kind of love is not to be had. Celia is a pretty girl from the town. I am a soon-to-be coal miner from the Seam. She is everything I am not; smart, pretty, sure of herself, popular. I want to be with her. But we can't. She is 17, I am 18. And today is the reaping.

Well now you expect a happy ending type of story. You know, the one that where I go off to the Hunger Games, win, come back and Celia loves me. Heck no. If life was like that, we would already be together. But I worry for her, as I have every day for the past 5 years. Today I worry that she will be chosen as tribute. I can't save her; I can't volunteer for her. I hope that I am sent today. I want to prove her how strong I am.

Effie Trinket is up on the stage, dancing around on a little podium. I make up my mind. I will volunteer. The mayor walks up and delivers the same boring speech we hear every year. And oh, I am nervous. I know something bad will happen. I pray to the creator of this miserable world: Please let me volunteer. And please keep her out of this.

The speech is done. The mayor has left, and Effie Trinket is left to pick tributes. I'll volunteer. It will work out. "Ladies first!" And what do you know, she has swooped down and grabbed a slip before I even have time to throw up. It isn't Celia. It isn't. But shoot, it is her best friend. She is crying and her pretty face is all puckered up and she looks like the end of the world has come. _What if I have to kill her best friend? _My plan unravels. Celia will hate me, because I escaped and her best friend didn't. But no, I am interupted from my frantic calculations by a commotion. My girl is screaming. She is hysterical. The crowd begins to whisper. But my girl, the one I have watched for five years, she is calming down. And she has this look on her face that I've seen before. She is headed for disaster. And before I know it, she volunteers.

Silence. Deadly. Manipulative. And I have never quite noticed how deafening silence can be. She is going. She is gone, gone, gone. I will volunteer now. Whatever shadow of doubt was in my mind before, it is gone now. Effie is surprised. Volunteers? We never have volunteers. All too soon it is the boys' turn. And I am already steeling myself for what I am about to do. Effie bends over, daintily. She grabs the nearest slip of paper. She reads the name. _Samuel Frederickson. _I am about to yell, about to volunteer. Then I stop. Samuel, that's my name. I don't have to volunteer. I walk up, glad that it is over. I look around me. People are screaming. Is it because they love me? No, it is because of the local hero, the big burly boy that is kind to old ladies and frisky around the young girls. He has volunteered. _No, no, no! This is ruining my plan! _I try to volunteer. But you can't hear it. The cheering is too loud. And before I know it, they whisk Celia away, and she is gone, gone, gone.


	2. Chapter 2: Meeting Her

I am working to get through the crowd frantically. How could they do this? How could they tear her away from me? I feel a sudden surge of anger, thick and hot. This is not like me. I am not like this. _Calm down. _I tell myself. _Be rational._ I know what I will have to do. Persuade her tribute partner to see her safely home. I go to a pair of Peacekeepers. "How can I see the tributes? You know, to say good-bye?" They laugh. One of them, short and squat, says, "That boy Chad already has a waiting list a mile long. And the girl, she is the same. But you can get in- if it's a matter of life and death." His partner cracks up at that one. With all the courage I can muster, I taunt, "It is a matter of life and death. Thank you for your understanding." And I stomp off to find someone to help me. It turns out Chad does have a million people that want to say good-bye, many of them giggling girls. I shake my head in disgust. But Celia only has her parents and the friend she volunteered for. I make up my mind. I will visit her.

The Peacekeepers (different from the ones who laughed at me earlier) lead me down a cold, dark, and damp hallway. It smells of mold. They open a door to a room with a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling and shove me inside. Once my eyes have adjusted, I see a worn couch and sitting on it is...is..._Celia._ I don't know why I do it. But I start crying. Me, all of 18, standing there blubbering. Celia gawks at me. _Who is this kid? _She must wonder. Maybe she remembers me, or maybe she doesn't. But she gets up and comes to comfort me. She grabs my hand and leads me over to the couch. "Shhhh. It's alright." Celia is always so kind to everyone. I stop and look at her, hard. Even in the dim light, I can see that there are no tears. She didn't cry for her parents or her best friend.

Clearly, I am crazy. Yes, this is what she must think. I have almost stopped crying. I can talk now. "Celia, I..." Her face turns hard. "What do you want?" she asks. I sit there. I cannot even answer the question. What do I want? Did I come here to say goodbye? Did I come to confess my undying love? I don't know. "I came to say good luck." I finally say. It sounds lame and stupid. Celia laughs, not her normal, musical laugh, but a short bark. It is then that I notice. Her face, which I have watched so closely, is tight. She has drawn her cheeks back and her forehead is wrinkled. She has pursed her lips, as if they are the only barrier that keeps her feelings from rushing out. Celia, so strong before others, is trying hard not to cry.

"Come here." I whisper, holding my arms out. After a moment's hesitation, she does. She lets me hold her for about 30 seconds. Then she composes herself and pushes me away. "I think it's time for you to go now," she says. She is hard again. I leave, but not before I kiss her on the top of the head. Now she will have to remember me.


	3. Chapter 3: Celia

I walk home, slowly. By now, Celia will have boarded the train. She will be eating dinner with Chad and Effie and our mentor. What is she thinking? She is probably planning her strategy. She will probably know exactly what to do when that gong sounds. Or is she thinking of me? The crazy boy who was there one minute, gone the next? I have no idea what to do if she doesn't come home. _Stop it. _I tell myself. She will come home. She has to.

I am home now. My mother stares at me. I don't think she recognizes me. I smell liquor. Mom has a half-empty bottle in her hand. I'm not surprised. Ever since she lost that second baby, she drinks. But that was 13 years ago. Would it kill you to look at your son and tell him you love him? Apparently so. Dad is at the mines, where he works a day shift, has a 2-hour break where he tries to sleep, and then works a night shift. He gets home at 6 in the morning and leaves again at 7. I feel bad for him. Losing the baby was hard on him, too. And now, he has to work all the time because of the astronomical liquor bill. He has tried to make Mom quit. It doesn't work. Dad has tried everything; hiding the bottles (she went into withdrawal,) threatening her (she knows he would never hit her,) and even not feeding her (she grabbed a knife and Dad gave her some food.) The liquor always wins. My Dad is nice, he just doesn't really know what's going on, him being away all of the time. I will join him in the coal mines soon so he won't have to work a double shift.

Yeah, I guess my home life is pretty broken. I stopped feeling sorry for myself a long time ago and learned to take care of my family. I don't make money except for when I do odd jobs here and there. But I know how to spend money. I know how to stretch every dollar so that we can get food, house essentials, and liquor. We were in debt, but not anymore. We paid off our house, one nickel at a time. All we have to do is sustain ourselves. I am even starting to put a little money in savings.

Celia keeps me there. Sane, I mean. I can live if I see her everyday. Otherwise, I would have stopped caring by now. Just turned into a zombie like Mom. Thank you, Celia.

**Celia**

Everything seems like a blur. I remember what happened, but it was like I was watching it happen to another person. I know I volunteered, and then Chad volunteered. I remember being whisked away to the Justice building. I was put in a small room. My parents came in first, my Dad telling me how to survive, my Mom reminding me of all the things we used to love doing together. She cried through the whole thing, but I did not. I am numb. Then my friend comes in, the one that I volunteered for. She is crying, no, bawling, and all she does is thank me and cry harder and tell me how sorry she is. It's okay. I could use a little sympathy.

Then, I sit for a while. Nobody else wants to see me, I guess. At the last moment, this boy walks in. He starts crying. I mean, come on. Crying? A boy? A coal miner? No, wait. He isn't a coal miner yet. I recognize him from school. And I guess I should be nice and all, considering he has come to say goodbye, but that crying has turned me mean as a snake. Because when he walked in, I wasn't numb anymore. I was alert and about to break. "What do you want?" I snapped. He just stood there like an idiot. After a while, he mumbles, "I came here to say good luck." I laugh. It is all so stupid.

And then, I had to comfort him. But- but- it was all weighing down on me, how in three weeks I might be dead, and nobody would remember me, cause that is how it goes with tributes- and...and...He must have known me well, though I didn't know his name. He pulled me to him, and I buried my face in his chest. I didn't want to do this. I don't even know this kid...I composed myself and pushed him away. I felt like I was pushing my former life behind. My family, my friends. _push._ My schoolwork, my teachers. _push._ My future, my possibilities. _shove._ All of my life, gone, except for these next few weeks. "I think it's time for you to go now," I say, even though all I want is for someone to draw out the moment until I have to step on that train. Before he leaves, he kisses me on the top of the head. Now I will never be able to push him away.


	4. Chapter 4: The Capitol

**Celia**

The train moves quickly, quietly. I sit at a table laden with food. There is enough food to feed all of District 12. I plan to eat. A lot. We are supposed to be eating dinner together, but my mentor is off, somewhere. Chad is next to me, talking loudly and showing off his muscles. Effie is taking it all in, on the verge of flirting. Oh, well. I was never the favorite. Nothing new here. At least the food is good. It ranges from all colors, all sizes, and all palettes. Every food I could imagine is here. Yum.

I guess I sound kind of grumpy, but that's because I am. First, my friend gets reaped. And what do I do? I volunteer. I risk my life, for a friend! No, I didn't risk my life, I condenmed it. I will die, I know that. My friend would never have done the same for me. Screw my life. Oh wait, I already am screwed. And then, when that boy came in, he fell apart. And then what happened? I fell apart! No, no, no. I am leaving. I will not come back. I do not care. So how did he, of all people, someone that I didn't even know, manage to break through my defenses. I am so angry with myself, that when I crawl into bed that night, I can't stop thinking of... of...I DON'T EVEN KNOW HIS NAME! Disgusted with myself, I toss and turn until I manage to fall asleep. I wonder if he will watch me die.

The next morning is boring. We arrive at the Capitol. Effie wouldn't let me sleep in. She woke me up when it was still dark outside. I wonder what she would do if I ripped off her wig instead of obeying. Anyway, the Capitol is big, shiny, colorful, and so, well . . . _out there. _It's as if the world took a hunk of each planet and their imaginary inhabitants and rammed them together. It's all bright and unatural. Chad is all like "Oh yeah, this place is AWESOME." And I have to sit there listening to his stupid rant. Doesn't he know we're gonna die? It's okay. Not really, but I'm good at pretending.

Effie says we will meet our stylists today. My mentor is once again MIA. Screw him. We pull into the Capital station. A crowd has gathered, bigger than the Reaping crowd back at home. And this is just a fraction of the Capitol's population. Wow. I'm not surprised to see all of the bright colors jump from the buildings to the people's faces and clothes. It also doesn't surprise me to see tatoos, in equally bright colors, all over the bodies of Capitol residents. What does surprise me is the number of exotic pets perching on the fake bodies of the people who call the Capitol home. Parrots, small monkeys, and, excuse me, but is that a koala? A small, lazy, bluish gray bundle of fur curled around an arm? Oh, WOW. Really?

We are ushered into the training center to get our rooms. And then we go off to our stylists. First, I meet the prep team. There is Leavia, who has a permanent smile fixed on her face, Eric, who is kind but twitchy, and Seria. I like her the minute she walks in. She is, just like her name suggests, serious. She walks in with a brisque voice and claps. "Time to go! Get to work! Demitrius won't be happy if we start late!" I guess that Demitrius is my stylist. He must be new. The prep team busily starts working, all under the guidance of Seria. And when she whispers in my ear, "Shhh. This is going to hurt a bit, but relax. It'll be done soon," I do. I have to be stripped of all of my body hair. Tubs are lined up, waiting for me to enter. Each one smells something horrible. And that is when the shift they made me change into earlier flies off. I am embarrased. Leavia and Eric gaze at me with a practiced eye. Seria simply glances at me, noticing my less-than-full chest. "It's okay, darling. Your stylist will address that." Somehow, when she says the word 'stylist', I notice a hard pang. Suddenly, I want to be in the tubs. "Which one do I get in first?" I ask, hoping for a change in the slight tension in Seria's face. As she points out which one and I slide in, the tension disappears. I turn robot-like, mechanical and obedient. I slide from one tub to another, as all of my body hair is stripped off. Seria is nice, whispering encouraging things. And before I know it, I am done and sent to my stylist.

I wait in a small room, shivering in my shift. I wish someone would turn the heat on. And like someone can hear my thoughts, the heater cranks on quietly. I am being watched. Wonderful. I wonder if they saw me naked in the prep room. I feel a blush creep into my cheeks just as my stylist enters. He is old, wrinkly, and has a fake smile on his face. Great. Now I know why Seria doesn't like him. "Well, hello there. Aren't you pretty?" And then he is pulling me to stand and taking off my shift. I tense up automatically as his hands rove my body, stopping at my less-than-full chest. "Oh boy, I think we're going to have some padding put there. Wouldn't want you looking too young, would we?" He stops short of roving me below the waist, but I know he is itching to do so. I hate him. Uggh. Did he take this job just to take advantage of poor girls like me? As if sensing my thoughts, he says, "Do I scare you? I don't want to scare you. I just want to be best friends. I'm in the room three doors down from you on the left." Right. Because if I'm having nightmares in the middle of the night, he's the one I'll go to. Finally, after a long period of him just looking, looking, looking at me, he finally says, "ah, well." And motions for me to put on my shift. Once I am in the shift, he presses a button in the wall I wouldn't have noticed, and couches and a table with food rise up from underneath the floor. He sits down and motions for me to sit next to him, but I sit across from him. I am not going to have his roaming hands anywhere near me. As we eat, he tries to make conversation, but I am silent. He dismisses me eventually, looking disappointed. I wonder if he's afraid I'll report him. I contemplate it, but then find a big loophole: who would I report him to?

Back at my room, I take a long shower. Warm and soft, like rain. I scrub myself to get rid of Demitrius' less-than-clean hands. I find a simple black jumpsuit in the drawers of my elaborate dresser drawer. After dressing, I meander out to the dining room. Chad is there, flirting- I mean talking, with Effie. "Hey there!" He says, too brightly. "How was your stylist?" As I mumble something about him being too old to think clearly, Chad goes right on and answers the question himself. "Mine was pretty cool. She was young and pretty." Oh, yay. Now we have the same problem, except his is backwards. Tomorrow is the parade in the chariots. I wonder if my stylist will want me nude.

When I try to fall asleep, I am disgusted. We haven't had a victor in a long time, and he was male. Which means all of the female tributes have died. And they slept in this bed. I resolve to sleep on the roof.

**Samuel**

I wonder how Celia's day was. Did the Capitol frighten her? Were people nice to her? Did she like her stylist? Is she okay? Where is she now? Falling asleep was never so hard.


End file.
